


pretty

by AvaRosier



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Finn is Bellamy's roommate, Multi, established Finn/Clarke, open relationships and open communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Bellamy likes to wear makeup and panties sometimes, what's it to you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	pretty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toflowerknights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toflowerknights/gifts).



The first time Bellamy Blake is caught putting his mother’s makeup on, he is seven years old and he thought his mom would be longer at the grocery store. She’d bundled Octavia up and told him that she was trusting him to be able to behave on his own for an hour. Wanting to show her that he could be responsible, Bellamy had nodded earnestly.  He doesn’t plan to do it, but after wandering through the house, bored, he finds himself in the master bathroom where the various shades of lipstick and blush were strewn about.

He likes sitting on the bed sometimes and watching his mom put on her makeup. It doesn’t really occur to him that there is a reason _why_ he finds it fascinating. Maybe in his childish mind he thinks this dimension to women, to his mother, was simply a mysterious quality of adulthood. But then he finds himself standing there before the mirror, his shoulders barely peeking over the edge of the counter, staring at his reflection and wondering what his features would look like if he added some color.

With trembling hands, because even a seven year old boy was acutely aware that boys _didn’t do_ things like this, Bellamy uncaps a tube of lipstick. It was the lighter pink his mother likes to wear for work sometimes. The wax smells nice and feels strangely sticky as he slowly, carefully covers first his bottom lip, then his top lip in halves…exactly the way he’s seen his mom do. And then he caps the lipstick and places it exactly where she had left it, on its side near the sink.

Next, he reaches for the compact with the dark purplish eyeshadow in it. His mom frequently wears neutral colors, but Bellamy is a seven year-old boy. He wants colors. It goes on much heavier than he wanted it to, thanks to his young and untrained hand. Bellamy finds himself smiling when he swishes a pale pink blush on with the big brush.

Finally, he regards himself, looking different than he’s ever seen himself look. He doesn’t think he looks like a girl, per se…he just looks like Bellamy, only better.

“Hey Bel, where are you— _oh_.”

He hadn’t even heard his mom return from the store and the absolute panic that grips him then leaves him speechless. His mom has this odd look of surprise on her face and she doesn’t seem to know what to say either. The silence only makes it worse and Bellamy begins to cry.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to play!”

In a flash his mom is kneeling before him, gathering him into her arms. Bellamy could only sniffle as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. Soothing hands rubbed along his back. “Oh, Bel, it’s not a bad thing you did. I was just surprised, is all.”

He doesn’t get in trouble and he’s still allowed to stay on his own a little bit after that. Two weeks later, he opens his underwear drawer and sees a brown wrapped package sitting there. Inside are two lipstick tubes and an eyeshadow palette, all for him. After that first conversation, his mother doesn’t talk to him in depth about it, she just accepts it as a thing he likes to do and they move on. But maybe he internalised some idea of secrecy because as he gets older, he goes to great lengths to hide it from Octavia.

Which, given that she is a pesky and rather evil little sister, is hard to do.

 

It’s not until he’s in college that something else occurs to him. It happens one day when he was looking at pictures of men wearing makeup on the internet. He sees the link that says ‘men in panties’ and he’s curious. When he sees the men—models with well sculpted bodies—in frilly pink boyshorts made for them, his chest tightens and he feels a bit lightheaded. As if he’d stumbled on some taboo and it excited him and frightened him in equal part.

He’s well aware by this point in his life that while he was usually attracted to women, sometimes he finds himself strongly interested in men. It’s not something he feels like he can talk to his buddies on the soccer team about. But this didn’t feel like just that.

He doesn’t buy any panties until he’s living off-campus with only two roommates, neither of whom are inclined to go snooping through his drawers. The first pair he tries on is a powder blue binkini cut, with enough room in front for him to comfortably fit. Looking at himself in the mirror, wearing nothing but those…well, it’d just looked right to him. And that was how it began. Some days he’d wear comfy cotton ones, other days he’d wear the nicer ones that were shiny or had lace.

When he knew he wouldn’t be interrupted at night, Bellamy would wear the frilly ones and slick his hair back before applying the makeup he had also ordered online. He wasn’t brave enough to walk into the local Sephora and ask for someone to help him find colors that went with his skin tone or whatever. So he made do reading how-to guides online and hoping for the best.  Youtube videos helped him learn how to apply the eyeshadow without looking like a clown. He didn’t have much, but it was enough for him to make do.

He moves to a two-bedroom apartment when he’s in grad school. It’s a nicer place, and as much as he’d like to live alone, his stipend wouldn’t cover the full price.  His original roommate flakes out after three months and breaks the contract, forcing Bellamy to desperately put out an ad for a new roommate.

Which is how he meets Finn Collins.

There’s something about Finn that Bellamy hates the first time they meet at a coffee shop right next to campus. No, not ‘hates’…that’s the wrong word.  It’s the way Finn’s so open, so at ease with himself as he strolls through the café towards where Bellamy sits, that makes him so envious. His hair’s brushing his shoulders and he takes his sweet time combing it back into a ponytail. They dispense with the usual introductions and he finds out that Finn’s going into his senior year, studying polisci and social work. Bellamy doesn’t waste time asking pointed questions about Finn’s domestic habits, and Finn is fairly forthcoming with answers.

“What’s your stance on washing dishes?”

“I’ve lived without a dishwasher for the past three years. It’s not that hard to plug in my headphones and get the work done in five minutes. You might object to my singing voice, though.”

“Cleaning the bathroom and common areas?”

“Put up a schedule and I’ll follow it.”

“Parties.”

“I go out but at most I’ll only have lowbrow get-togethers in the place with a handful of friends.”

“Sex?”

“My girlfriend has her own place. Also we’re not obnoxious about it.”

“And you have a job that will cover your share of the bills?”

“My main job is at the Drippy Bean, but I also pick up a few shifts for the Crisis Hotline.”

Finn has more sense than any other roommate Bellamy had ever had, so he offers Finn the other half of the apartment. He comes home from teaching one evening to find Finn all moved in. They now have a second couch, yet another bookcase full of Finn’s own books, and more kitchen implements than Bellamy thinks is reasonable for an apartment, but whatever.

It’s fairly easy to live with Finn, and it’s not like they spend a lot of time in each other’s presence right away. Although Finn does manage to talk Bellamy into eating dinner together at least once a week.  Turns out he loves to cook, and after the first two meals, Bellamy’s sold.

The usual reticence he has towards other people starts to melt away and before he knows it, Bellamy’s sharing easy smiles with his roommate and allowing their knees or shoulders to bump against each other when they move around the kitchen or the bathroom, or sit next to each other on Finn’s couch (which is infinitely more comfortable than Bellamy’s).

It’s not until they’ve been living together for three weeks that Bellamy finally meets the elusive Clarke that makes Finn smile stupidly and his eyes to go soft.  He had already met Finn’s ex-girlfriend-forever-best-friend Raven. The mechanical engineering Ph.D had strolled through the entire apartment with no regard to trespassing on Bellamy’s own space before strolling back into the living room to stare Bellamy up and down like she wasn’t impressed with him.

Bellamy had just scowled and raised his eyebrow at her, challenging her to say something.

Clarke, on the other hand, he meets when he comes home one Sunday afternoon to find them curled up against each other on the couch.  He would have just nodded at them and continued on to his room had Finn not turned and regarded him with a ‘hey’.

“Hey.” Bellamy replies, backpack knocking against his hip.

“You haven’t met Clarke yet, have you?” The blonde head raises and turns to sleepily regard him, blinking owlishly. Bellamy makes out blue eyes and a mole above her lip.

“Can’t say I have.”

“Clarke, this is Bellamy. Bellamy, Clarke.” Finn gestures between the two of them and Bellamy nods politely. It’s a ‘strangers-in-his-place’ kind of thing. Clarke smiles up at him, swimming in the huge pink sweater she wore over her pale jeans. He notes the dark hairs on Finn’s forearm where it curled around Clarke’s hip.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Bellamy.” She says.

“Likewise. Well, I’ll be in my room.”

“I’m making roast chicken for dinner!” Finn calls after him and Bellamy nearly groans because he loves roast chicken and it just might be worth being a third wheel with the couple. It turns out to not be so bad being around them. They don’t shut him out of conversations, and Clarke is pretty chill; she’s finishing up an art degree.  He notices the way the two of them have a similar rebellious streak; Finn being more flexible in relating to people whereas Clarke pretty much screamed ‘this is my rock I will die on it’.  He ends up drinking with them a couple times—Clarke takes her partying seriously and he gets to witness her drunkenly painting a starry vista on Finn’s back with her paints.

It doesn’t happen right away, you see. It’s a month or two before Bellamy realizes there is a sharp feeling in his chest whenever he’s around the couple. But Bellamy doesn’t think he’s jealous of Finn. Or Clarke. He specifically likes watching the two of them together. Since Finn is his roommate and Bellamy’s pretty much accepted that they’re friends, he does his level best to put it all out of his head. He dates, he really does. He’s just not willing to put in the work for a serious, long-term relationship, so they never last.

He knows Finn notices the night he comes home with Scott. They were probably a bit noisy, but that was because Scott seemed to have zeroed in on how much Bellamy liked to have someone else calling the shots. The next morning, Finn didn’t do more than tease Bellamy about the dark hickeys that stood out on the skin of his throat. Which was good. It wouldn’t do if his roommate was homophobic or something, right?

Yeah. Good to know.

It’s almost all fucked up when he stumbles out of his room and into the living room one Friday morning, only to see Finn kissing a formidable brunette that was most certainly not Clarke. He’s scowling, not looking at Finn as they say their goodbyes and his roommate closes the door behind her. Bellamy can’t remember feeling this disappointed in another person before. He can’t keep quiet.

“What the fuck, Collins?” He bites out, slapping the kitchen counter to punctuate his rage. “What would Clarke thin—“

“Bellamy! Chill? Clarke knows.” He can see how serious Finn is and that throws him for a loop. Finn combs his messy hair back and steps up to the other side of the counter, facing Bellamy. “Look, Clarke and I have an open relationship. We discuss everyone beforehand and it’s something that just works with us. Sometimes we share, sometimes we don’t. See?” And then Finn’s fishing his phone out of his jean pocket and showing Bellamy a series of texts where Finn had talked to Clarke about the brunette (apparently named Echo).

So, yeah, Clarke’s into it.

Very into it. Bellamy half wishes he could pour bleach down his throat to forget the text conversation he just read.

“Oh. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to see…you know.”

“Yeah, most people wouldn’t. Clarke and I aren’t exactly open about it because people get weird about it or just don’t get it.” And then Finn says something that Bellamy won’t be able to get out of his mind for days. Weeks. “I don’t want you to think differently of me, Bellamy. I’d like to think we’re friends now and I don’t want you to think I’m a shitty person or something.”

“I don’t.”

He really doesn’t.

That’s the problem. Now that he knows Clarke and Finn make room in their relationship for other people, his ‘crush’ comes back full force. The boundaries between him and them in his fantasies begin to erode and melt away. He guiltily jacks off to the thought of being in bed with them. Or with Finn, with Clarke’s knowledge and approval.

God, his endurance goes out the window in a hurry.

One night while Finn and Clarke are out, but she’s going to stay there the night, Bellamy can’t resist some of the things in her makeup pouch. They share a bathroom, you see, so it’s impossible to ignore the messy, half-opened compacts and tubes scattered on the counter because she’d been running late after work and wanted to freshen up before they went to the bar. The sticky pink lipgloss is like a siren song. ‘Bunny’ it’s called, says so on the sticker at the bottom of the tube. Maybe he wants to be a ‘Bunny’ for the night.

Bellamy guiltily swipes the applicator over his lips as if doing it quickly would negate the fact he was using Clarke’s things without her permission. Of all things, she has a small compact of either red or dark pink eyeshadow and Bellamy plucks it out of her makeup bag and attempts to give himself a cat-eyed look.  He retreats to his bedroom for the rest, however, and pulls out his favorite pair of sheer black hose. He wears nothing but those, liking the way his cock looks, curving up against the stretchy material. He half-fantasizes about having two bodies pressed against his own, touching him through the hose; kissing his sticky lips.

Problem is: he did all this with a few glasses of whiskey in him and music playing on his laptop. Given how busy he’d been lately, it’s understandable he fell asleep. He wakes up to the click of a door opening, blinking groggily as he rises onto his elbows. “Bellamy?”

He rubs at his eyes and that’s when he realizes he has mascara on his eyelashes and _Finn is in his room right now_. His heart nearly stops as he jack-knifes up on the bed and grabs the nearest corner of his comforter to cover himself. “The fuck? GET OUT!” He hisses in a strangled voice.  Finn’s not leaving, though, and as his vision clears, he sees his roommate looking…well, not disgusted.

He doesn’t look like anything at all. Finn closes the door behind him and holds out a hand to calm Bellamy. “Hey—it’s okay. Seriously, I may be surprised but I’m not going to judge. I just wanted to give you a heads up that we brought a friend back here. Monty took something at one of the bars that’s making him loopier than usual so Clarke’s gonna keep an eye on him tonight, make sure he’s okay.  I didn’t want you to freak out when you walked through the living room.”

“Okay, got it. Now get out.” He growls, humiliation flushing his cheeks darker than the blush he’d put on them. Finn looks like he wants to discuss this—this being Bellamy’s apparent enjoyment of makeup and lingerie—but he closes his mouth and nods before exiting Bellamy’s room.

 

It’s two days later when Bellamy is watching a documentary on the History Channel that Finn sits down next to him with a bag of Doritos. The bag rustles noisily as Finn holds it out to him. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Bellamy says warily, reaching in for a few chips. Looks like this was the new normal: having to live with the knowledge there was now one more person who knew about his makeup and lingerie habit. But Bellamy isn’t fooled. He knows what’s coming. Sure enough, it’s ten minutes before Finn starts to broach the subject during a commercial break. “You’re not going to freak out, are you?”

“About what?”

“That I know. Some of my partners have been genderqueer. It’s really not something I’m going to go blab about. So you like makeup and frilly underthings, big deal.” The commercial break ends and the documentary resumes playing. They’re silent for minutes before Bellamy decides he really ought to say something.

“Fine.”

 

Later, he curses Finn because _of course_ Finn would have figured him out enough to raise the issue while watching a tv show, knowing it was the least confrontational setting. Bellamy knows he’s not good at feelings; his little sister, Octavia, is one of the least sentimental people he knows, and apparently he can get through conversations like this if he can pretend he’s just focusing on…on…whatever the fuck it was that they’d been watching.  Then Finn decides to be helpful and give Bellamy ‘contacts’. 

“ _There’s a group here in the city for like-minded dudes, you should check them out_.”

“ _I have this friend who told me about a club night if you ever wanna dress up and go out_.”

Bellamy just eats his cereal and makes excuses.  He shouldn’t be surprised that it takes alcohol to change things. Clarke comes over one night bearing two bottles of wine which they all work through in short order.  Overly Tipsy!Clarke likes to sing naughty R&B songs and when Finn isn’t giggling (yes, _giggling_ ) at his girlfriend, he’s using up half Bellamy’s printer paper to make origami animals. They have enough to fill an Ark, he thinks. Bellamy has just about relaxed when Clarke sits up suddenly, twists around to face them, and declares: “We should dress up and put on makeup!”

Boom. His heart drops into his stomach and he glares at Finn. “You told her?”

Before Finn can respond, however, Clarke is kicking his foot. Hard. “Hey, genius? Next time you want to borrow someone’s makeup, be sure to clean off the brush so they don’t get a surprise the next time they use it.” She gives him a triumphant arch of her eyebrows and Bellamy flushes, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment at his own stupidity.

“And besides, I was completely serious.  Have you never done this with other people before?” Her voice is lower, her tone more gentle. He can feel Finn’s eyes on him, studying his body language. Bellamy finds himself completely engrossed by the glasswork in his wineglass.

“No. I haven’t.” He admits.

“Well, do you want to?” He raises his eyes then, and finds himself caught in the traction pull of Finn’s gaze.  Finn hasn’t given him any reason to doubt his discretion, and Clarke strikes him as a trustworthy person. Bellamy has spent too much time fantasizing about them to deny himself the opportunity.

“Yeah.” He’s not sure if this will lead to a kinky threesome. He can hope, right? A grin splits Finn’s face.

“Dibs on the eyeliner!” He declares, pushing off the floor and heading towards his bedroom. Clarke gives him a proud smile and Bellamy, being Bellamy, doesn’t know how to deal with this, so he just downs the rest of his wine.

 

Time seems to melt between moments and the alcohol either gives him enough courage, or makes him stupid enough to go into his room and pull out his favorite lingerie.  He puts his clothes back on over it, however. He relishes in the feel of silk hose rubbing against the rougher denim material, the pinch and pull of the garters and the scratchy way the lace on the belt digs into his hipbones.

Clarke is already stripped down and she looks pretty and comfortable in her dark purple cotton camisole and matching panties, rubbing her bare legs together as she perches on top of the bathroom counter. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, a sight that hypnotizes Bellamy. Finn’s shirtless and his jeans hang low on his hips, giving Clarke and Bellamy a peek at the dark hair trailing from his bellybutton down to the noticeable lack of underwear.

Bellamy’s been assigned a stool in front of the mirror so he can watch as Clarke pokes around the various palettes open before her, trying to choose which color she wants to use. Finn’s already busy edging his eyes with black eyeliner and smudging it. Bellamy’s seen Finn’s Halloween pictures on Facebook—the guy loves dressing up like Captain Jack Sparrow.  The whole scene feels…normal and intimate, for which Bellamy is deeply grateful.

“This one. Nooner,” she declares at last, picking up the brush and dipping it onto the dusky pink powder. Bellamy sits stock still and breathes carefully, eyes closed as Clarke sweeps the brush across his eyelids. Finn sits down on the second stool just behind Bellamy; his breath is a constant presence skittering across the back of his shoulder.

“Now this one, to accentuate and add depth. Blackheart.”

Clarke does his makeup better than he’d ever done it himself and Bellamy can’t stop staring at his reflection in the mirror, pursing his lips slightly to watch the way his ruby red lips dance in the light. Clarke’s bent over the counter, giving herself smoky eyes while Finn finishes painting his fingernails black. He works very carefully, eyes totally intent on keeping the color inside the lines. “ _I used to do this all the time for Raven. She’s messy_.” He’d said by way of explanation.

Finn’s wearing a bit of mascara, too. With his longer hair pulled back in a ponytail, he looks like a roguish rock star. If he takes his clothes off, Bellamy knows he’ll look like a high-class gigolo or something. Which is probably the reason why he’s trying to keep the erection tenting his jeans under control. Between the play of muscles on Finn’s back, and the way Clarke’s panties barely cover her ass cheeks, it’s hard to do.

His guard is down, maybe that’s why he blurts it out. “Are we gonna fuck?”

“Yes.” Clarke says simply, not pausing in her routine.

“If you want to,” Finn concedes, however.

“I don’t want it to get weird.”

“Okay.”

“I know it’s not a forever thing.”

“Alright.”

 

Clarke insists on a safeword when they’re back in the living room. _Astronaut_. Bellamy just sighs and doesn't argue.

 

How do you start a threesome? By sitting together on the couch, sandwiched in between your roommate and his girlfriend, wearing your best black silk panties together with a garter and thigh highs.  The second bottle of wine is opened on the coffee table. Clarke had been the one to insist they start on the couch and she’s got her elbow propped on Bellamy’s left shoulder as she sits on her heels against his side.

“I should’ve brought Stubby. I like this feeling of being in charge a lot.” She scrunches her nose playfully at them.

“Who the hell is Stubby?” Bellamy wonders out aloud.

Finn snorts, trying not to smile so broadly over at his girlfriend. “Stubby is the incredibly—“

“Hilarious—“

“— _ridiculous_ name we gave the strap-on dildo I got Clarke for her birthday last year. And besides, you don’t need a penis to be in charge, babe.” He tells her with a wink. Bellamy’s already feeling lightheaded and there’s no way they can miss his erection now.

“Damn straight.”

God, their voices have gotten so low and raspy…if they don’t start touching him soon, he just might—

“I thought you were in charge?” He points out, a mite petulantly.

“Ha, ha,” Clarke says dryly before thinking for a moment. “Okay how about this: you two are parked at the popular makeout point overlooking the city. And Finn’s going to make a move.” A muscular arm goes around his shoulder and Bellamy turns to face Finn, only to see his face inches from Bellamy’s own. A frisson of desire makes his gut clench and his breath quicken as he alternates between staring into Finn’s dark eyes and watching the soft pout of his lips.

Finn places his other hand on Bellamy’s knee. The sensation through the silky hose is everything he’d hoped it would be. Bellamy tilts his head and meets Finn halfway, pressing his lips hard against the other man’s. Clarke, the minx, is running her fingers over his abdomen, making the muscles jump and Bellamy’s mind nearly overload from the multitude of sensations. The hand on his knee moves; it slowly slides up his thigh.

“Don’t let him get so far right away,” Clarke cautions.  “You don’t want to be one of those easy men, do you, Bellamy?” She places her fingertips on Bellamy’s forearm and he moves at her command, wrapping his hand around Finn’s wrists to halt his journey inches from the erection pressing against the black satin panties.

He wants Finn to touch him there, so bad, but he likes this pretending thing more. Anticipation ramps up inside him. Finn’s lips are sticky now from the lipgloss Clarke had put on Bellamy’s lips and he is controlling the kiss, slowing Bellamy down enough that he can enjoy the tingling sensation of the gentle caress as well as the teasing nips. Clarke’s voice is breathy, and so gravely as it murmurs next to his ear: “Don’t you know how hot you make him, Bellamy? Show him.”

Finn frees his hand from Bellamy’s grip and picks it up, moving it until Bellamy is touching Finn’s erection through the denim. He groans into the kiss and gasps into Finn’s mouth when Clarke bites his neck.  Jesus, Clarke really knows her dirty talk. “You know you want it, Bellamy. He’ll make you feel so good.”

Then he’s pushing out from between them and kneeling on the cold floor, unzipping Finn’s pants so he can lick a stripe up his cock. Finn barely gets his jeans down around his thighs before he’s dropping back down onto the couch with a groan. Bellamy loses track of time, then, so focused on swirling his tongue around the thick, bulbous head. Hands of differing sizes comb their way into his curls and grip lightly to direct his motions. The hint of control just about does him in. Bellamy opens his eyes and watches in a daze as Clarke and Finn exchange a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.  God, they’re beautiful.

This moment melts into the next one, and then the next.

His lipstick is pretty much worn off, along with his pride. He lies on Finn’s bed and begs for the teasing to stop even as Finn’s already sliding his panties down off his legs. Bellamy sees the way they look at him, admiring, as if he’s the most beautiful thing they’ve seen in a while. He doesn’t mind showing off a little, grabbing Clarke and flipping her around until she’s against the pillows at the headboard and his head is ducking down between her pale thighs. Finn’s behind him and Bellamy hears the crinkle of the foil package being torn open.

He’s already wet. He’s already been worked open.

Clarke helps him tug her panties off her legs, uses her hands and her words to tell him exactly where she wants him. How hard and how fast she wants his tongue. Bellamy digs his elbows into the mattress and does as he’s told. Finn’s…Finn’s…

Bellamy moans against wet flesh as Finn enters him.  He runs his fingers along the seam where Bellamy’s stockings meet his thigh. “Fuck,” he groans, and it’s practically the first time he’s heard Finn say the word. They establish a steady rhythm and Bellamy focuses on getting Clarke off while letting his body be used by the both of them. At one point, Finn curls his hands around the lacy garter and uses to pull Bellamy back against his pelvis. To ride him.

It’s all so novel to him, so hot, Bellamy knows he won’t last long.  He’s so close, he loses focus just enough for Clarke to grip his hair tight and grind herself against his mouth. And then Finn’s curving his body against Bellamy’s back. He hears the lowly murmured “you’re the prettiest, neediest slut aren’t you?” and he’s bearing down on the cock inside him, jerking his hips as everything sparks along his spine. A hand reaches around and jerks his cock once, twice, making him nearly white out as he comes.

 

After, he lies on his back, panting, while Finn and Clarke cuddle next to him. He doesn’t try to join, nor does he feel left out. He’s not _with_ them, they’re not in a relationship. He’s content to just stay there, still in his garter and stockings, while the sweat and semen cools on his body. It’s easy to doze off like this.

 

“Good?” Finn asks him later when they’re briefly awake at the same time but Clarke’s snoring softly against Finn’s back.

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” He mumbles, too sated to be embarrassed now that he’s sober. “Thanks,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Anytime.”

 

It ends like this, with Bellamy realizing just how much a difference it made to show the hidden part of himself to another person and to have that vulnerability rewarded with acceptance and understanding. Sometimes you make yourself lonely; maybe you need to trust others so that you can be found.

He’ll try that more often.


End file.
